Facade by Kim Carmichael Page B

some definite things she needed to get used to in being with Erik, but they were all concessions she happily made.
    Another girl in a western hat, jeans and a plaid shirt smiled at her. “I got country.”
    “Hymn.” Christine nodded.
    “They’re going to do one of the groups next.” The girl whispered. “You missed that Chimera band with hip hop, they were amazing. The judges loved them.
    Christine watched as the lights came up, and her heart seized. Her old group was up.
    The emcee, a man famous for basically being a host, crossed the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, our third band of the night, Rat Race, singing a pop song.”
    Applause rang through the space.
    “They got the easy genre.” The girl next to her continued to give commentary.
    Christine wrapped her cloak around her tighter and listened. They went with the same tune they had been practicing all along giving them a definite edge over everyone who had to learn a new song during the week. Carly sounded good, as if she learned to temper her voice a bit, and the band was together.
    The only upside to them being on before her was maybe they would leave before she went on stage. She really didn’t need to cross paths with any of them.
    They ended their song to more applause and waited for the evaluation.
    Justin White, the pop star started first. “You guys are giving me a run for my money, good job.”
    The band huddled together and Carly hugged Ramon.
    Perry Ross, the songwriter, gave them a thumbs-up. “You can work on your tones a little, but all and all, excellent work.”
    “They’ve ripped everyone else to shreds.” The country singer shook her head.
    Lastly, Michelle Mitchel stood. “This is the sort of talent we look for when producing records.”
    The emcee announced a break and the audience clapped again.
    The production assistant from earlier ran over. “Christine, since you were ready early we’re putting you on next. We have the music you requested all set.”
    Though she wasn’t nearly as nervous as for her audition, at the announcement she would be next, her breath caught.
    Rat Race left the stage and headed in the opposite direction.
    All right, at least she didn’t have to pass them, but if they didn’t know before, they would now know she made it as well.
    “All right Christine, take your mark, after you’re introduced, your music will start.” The production assistant prodded her forward. She managed to complete the final touch to her costume and put her hood over her head.
    Clapping resonated around her as she took her place at the microphone. Where last time she could see the people in the audience, with the lights and the cameras, everything in the distance was nothing but darkness. Erik had to be there.
    The emcee joined her on stage. “Join me in welcoming our fourth singer tonight, Christine Day, with a hymn.”
    Her music started.
    Rather than picturing the world watching her in high definition, she chose to envision how Erik recorded each one of these notes for her. The music was made for her, and she knew each one of her actions by heart. At her cue, she pictured Erik directing her and looked up as if searching for heaven, and began to sing.
    Emotion, hymns were about the emotion, about reaching a higher place, and since that morning in the church, she felt that every time she practiced with Erik. As she sang she forgot about everyone, everything except for the way he looked at her every time she finished the song, about how he treated her like a fragile piece of glass, how every time he kissed her it was as if he were worshipping her. All she could do was make all that she felt come out in her voice.
    In keeping with the drama of the piece, right as she went into the chorus, with a bit of flourish, she opened her cloak holding her arms out, not only to reveal the gold silk interior of the cloak, but her matching form-fitting dress.
    The audience clapped, and she used their approval to lift her up, continue on, and